


I Can't Stand Up for Falling Down

by totilott



Series: A Groovy Kind of Love [19]
Category: DCU (Comics), Justice League International (Comics)
Genre: First Meetings, Light Angst, M/M, The Conglomerate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-01-22 20:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21308327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totilott/pseuds/totilott
Summary: The historic occasion of the first gathering of Booster's new team, The Conglomerate. Time to get this show on the road.
Relationships: Michael Carter/Ted Kord
Series: A Groovy Kind of Love [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1282328
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	I Can't Stand Up for Falling Down

“Are you ready?”

“No,” Booster mutters, hugging himself a little tighter as he regards the busy intersection so many floors below them. Red taillights gleaming in the dark, inching forward in long lines, too slow. Then he chuckles self-consciously, looking back at Claire. “Sure. I think.”

Claire smirks, stepping forward to stand next to him, facing the same panoramic window. “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet _now_, Booster.”

He frowns, lifting his gaze to the night sky. No stars out tonight. If he went flying, above the clouds, he could find them. “Of course not.”

“But you’re nervous.”

“But I’m nervous,” he smirks, feeling his heart rate increase just acknowledging it. “I mean -- Claire. They look great on paper, they all do, but -- what if together, we -- we don’t _work?”_ Booster trails a restless finger down the glass. “What if we've done all this work for something that can't even get off the ground?”

“That’s why it’s just a dinner, Booster,” Claire smiles, looking out the window. “So you can get the feel for each other. No costumes, no crises, just getting acquainted. And like you said --” She turns, resting an encouraging hand on his shoulder. “They all look good on paper, that’s got to count for something.”

Booster sighs, not meeting her eyes. “I just wish we had someone more... _veteran_ on board.”

"You're the veteran."

Booster makes a weird noise, something halfway between a chuckle and a sputter. _Four years_. Four years running around in a stolen suit.

“I know," Claire offers with a smile. "But that's to our advantage, it's a good thing." She squeezes his shoulder fondly. “Blank slates. No crimefighting egos to bash against. _You_ get to plot the course, _you_ decide how things should be done.”

“Mm,” Booster affirms, not looking at her. Like that isn't a source for anxiety all on its own.

“Besides, there’s Gypsy.”

“Oh yeah.” He blinks. Her young age, her shy politeness always makes him forget she’s his senior in the hero biz. That she was in the Justice League before _his_ Justice League even existed.

No. Not _his_ Justice League. Just the Justice League now.

“You’re gonna be _fine_,” she ducks her head slightly, searching his face until he meets her gaze, and she smiles. “So just slow down that head of yours, go out there and relax. They'll adore you.”

* * *

There are still so many rooms only half finished in their brand new Wall Street headquarters. Plastic tarps, bunches of wires sticking out of walls, an unmistakable smell of sawdust... But the briefing room, that one’s finished. Done up with all the extras. The exquisitely carpeted floors with neon stripes, the enormous glass table with the state-of-the-art intercom at the head. The matte black walls adorned with a broad golden stripe that reaches around the room, and at the far wall the stripe swoops around to spell their team name in cursive.

_The Conglomerate._

Booster let them know early on he wasn’t crazy about the name, but apparently someone in the higher ups was absolutely set on it. It doesn’t seem so cold and corporate now, gleaming on the jet black wall in golden cursive.

He pauses in the doorway. That's his team in there. The Conglomerate, finally gathered in the same room, seated around the glass table. History in the making. Faces he mostly know from files and newspaper clippings. All dressed in civilian clothes for now, while Claire's team is working on whatever their look will be, out there. All Booster knows is that he's been promised they're going to look fresh, innovative. United.

They're... _quieter_ than he thought they would be. The table is laid out with appetizers, and most of them are silently chewing garlic bread, fruit, whatever that brown goop is. Only a few of them even look up as he slips down on the seat at the head of the table.

"Hey everyone," he beams at them. "I can't believe we're finally here, I am so excited to meet all of you." He searches their faces as they look up, but only Gypsy smiles back at him. Undeterred, he sits up taller, smiles wider, tries to radiate joy and satisfaction into the room. They're just nervous. Nervous like him. They're all in the same boat. "So plan for tonight is, just, um, great food, a wide variety of booze for those of you who want some, and we, we all just chat and get to know each other. I'm sure we, um --" He falters, realizing he started that last sentence without a plan, because it sounded like something -- something _Max_ would say on an occasion such as this.

Even now he's just trying to copy others, saying what sounds right. Stupid.

"It'll be neat," he offers, a little deflated. People turn back to their food.

He exhales. Okay, okay, so addressing them all together isn't doing the trick. It's fine. He must seem so -- so corporate. Impersonal. He can't stand the thought of it. That's not who he is, that's not why he got this job. Better to talk to them one on one, charm them one on one. Not try to be Claire, or Max, or anyone. Just be Booster.

“It’s Vapor, right?” he grins warmly to the young woman seated on his left, thick auburn hair down to her shoulders. “I saw that solo job you did on that hijacked oil tanker, that was some amazing stuff.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah,” she sighs quietly, only glancing at him before turning back to contemplating the drink in her hand. “Sure.”

“You don’t have to do the humility thing here, you know,” he tells her with a grin, refusing to be deterred. “If I’d pulled a job like that on my own I’d never stop reminding people.”

Vapor snorts quietly, but not in the sociable lighthearted way Booster was hoping. Her expression is more like... annoyed?

“No, really,” Booster begins, realizing suddenly he still has that reputation for shameless self-promotion. “That is, I don't mean --”

“Look, I’m sick of being the so-called hero of that oil tanker business, okay?” she groans, turning to him. “I only did that because those idiot terrorists were probably gonna run it aground and devastate the wildlife for miles and miles.”

Booster swallows, confused. “That's what I'm saying, you -- you did _good_.”

“Instead Corral Oil got that shipment back safe and sound," she makes a face. "So they could send it off and burn it, polluting the air all over the world instead, earn money to pump up more oil, send more oil tankers full of pollution and death and sludge, on and on and on. Big difference, right?” She snorts, taking a sip, not looking at him. “I saved their bottom line. Big fucking hero.”

Booster makes a soft noise, trying to find something to say, but she’s already turned away from him. He tells himself he’ll do better the next time they talk, he’ll find something better to say.

Instead he turns to the young, dark-eyed man on his right, silently eating garlic bread. New chance to make an impression. So he got off on the wrong foot with Vapor, if the rest of the team likes him she'll come around. “You're Vibe, right?” Booster grins. “I really --”

Those dark eyes snap to Booster's. “I’m not Vibe, man.” He sits back, folding his arms. “Vibe was my brother.”

_Oh shit._ A feeling like a ice cold water down his back makes Booster jump. Stupid, _stupid_. “Fuck,” he mutters. “I’m, God, I’m really sorry.” He’s read the files, read and reread until names started to blur, facts mix.

“You wanted Vibe for this outfit?” The young man's lip curls up in a bitter smirk. “Well, Vibe’s dead so hey, let’s just get his brother. Same difference, right? Just your little token minority, one’s as good as the other.”

“No, that’s not --” Booster begins. Reverb. It’s goddamned _Reverb_, not Vibe. “I’m sorry. Reverb. I really didn’t mean to --”

Reverb angles his head up at the ceiling. “_Come mierda_, I know how it is. You and your business stiffs need to look inclusive, that's why you --”

“Hey, runt,” a deep voice booms. Booster turns to what anyone could be forgiven for thinking was a solid wall, but it’s actually a giant of a man with his blonde hair neatly tied back in a ponytail. Face like carved granite. Praxis. He’s looking at Reverb, grey eyes studying him. “This isn’t your ghetto gang gearing up to do drugs or cruise for whores or whatever it is you usually do on a Friday night. Have some goddamned respect.”

“Ohh, you're the cop,” Reverb sneers. “I knew it, I could smell that stink on you the moment you walked in.”

Praxis grins, fluorescent light glinting off his white teeth. “Maybe our first team mission should be to truss you up and throw you back over the border to your shifty sombrero'd compadres, huh?”

Reverb stands up so fast his chair topples and bangs against the floor. “I’m Puerto Rican, you stupid bastard!”

“Okay, okay,” Booster stands up too, holding a warding hand out to Praxis. “Maybe let’s just cool it for now, okay?” he tells them, lamely. “Let’s not get off on the wrong foot right away.”

“Yeah, plenty of time to get off on the wrong foot later,” Vapor, the sullen brown-haired girl, mutters into her glass.

Booster swallows, waiting until Reverb (not Vibe, _not_ Vibe) takes several deep breaths, fire in his eyes, and sits down with a huff. Across the table Praxis grins.

“Okay, um,” Booster grins desperately, trying to find something to say. “There’s an empty chair, who are we missing?”

“Well, uh,” Gypsy -- young, shy (senior crime fighter) Gypsy, mutters. “Booster, I think you’re the only one here who knows who’s on this team.”

“Right,” Booster chuckles thinly. “Right, um.” The air in here is _stifling_. “Okay, roll call.” He swallows thickly, glancing to Reverb, worried he’ll horrifically misspeak again. “Why don’t we do a little, um, little round of presentations?”

Vapor rolls her eyes, and Booster feels something clench in his gut. “Vapor,” he says, feeling like some kind of schoolteacher. “Why don’t you begin?”

She makes a noise halfway between a snort and a chuckle. Then she tosses her thick dark hair back. “Yeah, everyone -- if you couldn’t tell, I’m Vapor.”

Silence fills the room, impossibly heavy, weighing down mostly on Booster's chest.

“And, um, what can you do, Vapor?” Booster says, feeling cornier than he's felt in years.

“I can turn into, well, _vapor_. Gases.” She shrugs. “Some that can knock people out, that kind of thing.”

Booster waits for her to continue, but she just turns back to looking sullenly into her glass, so he tries moving things along. “Terrific. Gypsy?”

She jumps a little at being addressed. “Yeah, I’m -- I’m Gypsy. Or you can call me Cynthia, if you want to.” She looks looks over all of them with a timid smile. “I was in the Justice League. I mean, the one before -- before this one. Before Booster’s Justice League.”

She looks at Booster with a smile, and he wants to say something, but the words stick in his throat. 

“It was wonderful working with your brother, Reverb,” she continues, turning to him across the table. “He was a great man.”

Reverb shifts in his seat, not meeting her eyes. “Yeah," he replies quietly. "He was.”

“And your powers, Gypsy,” Booster says after the pause becomes unbearable once again. “Cynthia.”

“Oh! I can, well. I can make people to see things,” she chuckles. “Or _not_ see things.” She folds her hands nervously on the table. “It can be pretty effective, like, as a diversion. Or things like that.”

“What I want to know,” Praxis cuts in with his booming voice. “Speaking of the Justice League, how come a guy like you --” He looks across the table at Booster with cold gray eyes. “Would just quit the cushiest hero job on the planet to throw together an outfit like this.” He chuckles, rolling his shoulders back. “Like no offense, but a collection of nobodies and delinquents like this can only dream of getting _into_ the J.L., while you just showed them your ass and left.”

“I, um-- I mean --” Booster’s pulse is thrumming in his temple. Why should he have to defend his decision? They've no business knowing. What a mess it all became. With Kooey Kooey Kooey, with Max, with... With Ted. But he should have expected a question like that. He should have known it would be an area of interest, should have prepared a lighthearted answer, something noncommittal instead of, of --

Praxis chuckles derisively. “Who’s _Ted?”_

“Are you --” Booster sucks in air. Remembering what was in Praxis’ file. “Are -- Are you _reading my mind_ right now?” The notion is nauseating, that a stranger like Praxis can just go into his most private thoughts and feelings and root around with clumsy hands like --

And just like that, the smug, mischievous expression on Praxis’ face changes into surprise, disgust. “Oh, shit. _Shit_, if I knew you were some kind of--”

“I swear to God, Praxis,” Booster interjects, a little too loudly, pointing a warning finger at him. “If you do that one more time you’re out for good. You don't fucking read minds here.”

Praxis looks at him, frowning, studying Booster for some time. Then he shrugs, sitting back. “I’ve only been able to do it for a little while. Can’t blame me if my power runs a little loose.”

“Well, learn to control it,” Booster hisses, embarrassed at how wound up he’s gotten already. Like not seeing Ted for months has somehow made him more _like_ Ted, anxious about being found out. Found out for something that is already over and done with. It's as if when Ted isn't around to be Ted, Booster has to play both roles, and he hates it. Hates worrying about things he never worried about before.

Even thinking about Ted opens a dark cold hole in his chest. Knowing what Ted must think of him after hearing him recruit Gypsy at Scott's funeral. For a moment Booster saw himself the way Ted must see him, and he's felt nauseous ever since. Even though he didn't mean it, didn't mean to do a thing like --

"But, um, Booster," Cynthia voice is soft. "We have been wondering, you know. Why you dropped out and bet everything on this new team."

Booster takes a deep breath, unable to answer. He's been asking himself that too, sometimes, late at night when he's struggling to fall asleep in his brand new seventh-floor apartment. Tastefully decorated rooms with expensive art, everything furnished by Claire and her team. Nothing but art and stale, plastic-smelling air.

"Well, he's from the future, ain't he?" 

Booster looks up, at the only person who hasn't spoken until now. Fair hair in a shaggy mullet, skin tan, eyes bright, shoulder's broader than anything. And something... oddly jovial about him. Maxi-Man.

"I mean, Mr. Gold, you gotta know, right?" Maxi-Man grins. "You're from _the future_. So just tell us. You know the Justice League's nothing in the long run, while the..." He turns around and reads the print on the wall. "The _Conglomerate_ is gonna be huger than huge." He throws out his hands. "That's it, isn't it?"

Booster leans his elbows in the table, eyes meeting Maxi-Man's, and smirks. "That would have been really cool, wouldn't it?" He pulls a restless hand through his hair. "But I, um -- I don't. I don't know." 

"Wait," Reverb leans over the table. "So your whole from-the-future schtick -- You _don't_ know about stuff that's gonna happen?"

Booster shrugs, trying to act cooler than he feels. "No, sorry," he smiles. "I really, I don't -- don't have that kind of information about anything." He even flunked history, long ago. Names and dates so far back they seemed useless to him. Most of the superhero trivia he picked up from his job at the museum turned out to be wrong, anyway, garbled by centuries of stories being told and retold. The progress of time chewing up the past, year by year.

When he came to this age he was surprised learning how people didn't even know about the battle of Hayes Pond, and that one wasn't too long ago for them either -- the one history test he aced, back when he was fourteen.

Even in their own time, people don't know what history is or isn't.

"You don't _know,_" Reverb repeats with a frown. "So what the hell are you good for?"

"Um," Booster offers, pulling his fingers through his hair, hoping an answer will come to him. "I -- I have technology from my time." He licks his lips, trying to meet the gaze of everyone in turn. "It, it lets me fly and shoot blasters and, and make force fields." _Sometimes_ make force fields. After that one time it got broken for real, it still fritzes out now and again. Despite all their best efforts (not _their_ \-- Ted's best efforts), it still doesn't work like it used to.

"You got _stuff_, is what you're saying," Reverb replies flatly. "All of us got powers, except you, you got stuff."

"Batman's got stuff!" Booster spits back, a little sharper than he meant to. "And_ his_ stuff is, is slingshots and pebbles compared to the tech I've got."

"Please, energy shooters?" Vapor mutters next to him. "Like STAR Labs don't produce those by crate. As if K.O.R.D. Industries aren't already --"

"Shut up!" Booster exclaims. For a wild moment he wants to counter that he got accepted into the Justice League, they didn't, but having thought it, he feels nauseous again.

He didn't come here to defend himself, he's their _leader_. Batman wouldn't sit here and take this. Superman wouldn't either, and Superman's _polite_. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. Gotta fix this, gotta make the best of it. He opens his eyes again, casting a glance at the team. _His_ team. “Moving on,” he sighs an exhausted sigh. "Please." Booster skips over Praxis, not wanting to let him take hold of the conversation again, and offers Maxi-Man a tense smile. “Your turn.”

The blonde giant clears his throat. “Maxi-Man,” he says, a little hoarsely. Then he says again, louder: “I call myself Maxi-Man. I’m, well, I’m strong and, I guess, resilient. I can’t fly none, or things like that, but I’m...” He chews his lip. “_Strong_.”

Booster regards him for a moment, a little surprised there was an introduction that didn’t lead to a fight.

“This isn’t exactly what I had imagined,” Maxi-Man offers with a hesitant smile.

Booster nods. _Me neither._

Their eyes collectively move to the empty chair next to Maxi-Man’s.

“Oh,” Booster mutters. “Echo.” He turns to exit the room, find Claire, ask her, when he remembers the small off-white machine with all the wires in front of his seat. The -- the intercall thing. Claire told him what code to press to get hold of her. 601. He taps it out gingerly, a little amused at how boxy and inelegant machines are in this age, all heavy buttons and ugly gray wires like tadpoles running down.

The machine fails to do anything. Booster swallows, aware of all the eyes on him.

The trouble when you’re used to futuretech is that you seem completely technologically inept when you have to deal with this stone age stuff.

The machine makes a defeated bleep and the yellow light dims. Booster tries again, 601, and as he presses the sequence once more he remembers he’s meant to end it with the pound sign, so he does.

This time the yellow light turns green and there’s a triumphant chime of three tones.

“Yes, Booster?” Claire’s voice is warped by the speaker.

“We’re missing Echo,” Booster tells her. “Did she say she was gonna be late? Have you heard anything?”

There’s a pause. “She said she’d be here. I’ll investigate.” That’s Claire. Always direct, always ready to go.

“Thanks, Claire. You don't think --” There’s a bleep and the green lights flashes once and then becomes dark.

Booster looks up, five pairs of eyes looking at him, studying him. He feels warm. Nobody talking among themselves, nobody regarding the people sitting next to them. It’s all him, people waiting for him to speak, for him to do something. Their leader.

“I’m sure she’ll be here soon,” he murmurs.

“And then what?” Reverb says. “What’s supposed to happen when we’re all here?”

“Like I said, we eat dinner,” Booster offers. “We enjoy all the booze Claire’s team has bought us, and we, um, we get to know each other.”

Vapor rolls her eyes again.

“Yeah, I can tell we're gonna be the _best_ of pals.” There’s a smirk on Praxis’ face. “Trust me, I know all I need to know about this sorry group of misfits.”

“I told you not to read minds here,” Booster frowns at him.

“I did it before you said,” Praxis shrugs. “Hey, I didn’t know you were going to stick me on a team with such amazing heroes like Vagrant Girl,” he points to Gypsy. “And little Street Gang Chico here.”

Reverb jumps to his feet, fists clenched. “What the fuck did you call me?”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Booster booms, trying to copy J’onn’s authoritative tone. Copying again. It's never enough just to be Booster.

“Your brother kicked it in his, what, late twenties?” Praxis studies Reverb. “_Yeah_. That’s practically old age among your kind, huh?”

“You fascist son of a _bitch_,” Reverb shouts, pushing Vapor out of the way trying to get at Praxis.

Booster’s already on his feet, hand clamped down on Reverb’s shoulder, trying to hold him back. “Okay, stop. Stop! Just --” The wind’s knocked out of him as Reverb rears an elbow back and hits Booster right below the ribs. His body is screaming at him to let go, but he gasps for air and throws his forearm over Reverb’s chest, who continues to struggle against him.

Across the table Praxis has stood up, ready to brawl, but seeing Reverb restrained he guffaws instead.

“Everybody just calm the fuck _down!”_ Booster shouts, ribs still aching. Gradually he feels Reverb’s struggling cease, breathing hard, and Booster relaxes his hold a little, satisfied that finally his order was heard. Booster massages his aching ribs. “Fuck’s sake,” he breathes.

“Hey, _cabraõ_,” Reverb mutters, eyes fixed on Praxis. “Can your powers show you what I’m gonna do now?”

Praxis snorts, studying Reverb. Then his eyes widen and he grips the back of his chair.

The tremor starts almost instantly, no gradual increase, just a body-shaking continuous quake that makes Booster lose his balance, falling to the floor. The building rumbles, glass shattering in the distance, chairs falling over. Booster glances over the room, seeing Maxi-Man, Gypsy and Vapor’s surprised faces, hunched low, gripping the table, the chairs, each other.

Reverb's still standing upright, his arm outstretched, fingers tensed towards the end of the table. Booster can’t see Praxis at all, and he worries for a moment that Reverb has exploded him or disintegrated him with his powers, if he's able to do that. Booster shifts, feeling like every organ in his body is being shaken loose, and he can finally see Praxis on the floor, panic in his eyes, his arms around the table leg. The quake is centered on his end of the room, the floor whipping up and down in waves.

“Reverb!” Booster shouts, trying to stand up and failing. “Reverb! Jesus, just stop!”

Finally the quake stops, though Booster’s body still feels like it’s vibrating, like he’s absorbed the quake inside him. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he gasps, fighting to get back on his feet, stumbling as he stands upright. “You can’t just --! What the fuck do you think you’re --”

“I can’t do this,” Gypsy mutters, and they all look at her, seeing her cover her face with her hands. “I’m sorry, Booster, I -- I can’t --” She sobs softly, getting her to her feet, and Booster catches sight of her eyes filling with tears as she hurries towards the door.

“No, Gypsy -- _Cynthia,_” Booster urges softly. “Don’t --”

But the door is already closed behind her.

He stands there, dizzy, anxious, as the door swings shut. He takes a deep breath. Then he emits a long, rasping groan. “Great,” Booster sighs, turning around to right his chair again. “Fucking great.” He glances at Reverb, still breathing heavy, and Praxis, still on the floor gripping the table leg for dear life. Booster chuckles thinly and sits down, resting his elbows on the table, hiding his face in his hands. "Great," he repeats, the sound muffled by his hands.

“Well, you’re the leader,” Vapor tells him, voice a little shakier than before. “If _you_ can’t control them --”

“What?” Booster squeaks in disbelief, looking up at her. The _leader_. This is his _job_ now. “Well, what the fuck am I supposed to --” His body hurts, his head hurts, his stomach hurts. He buries his face in his hands again, just wanting to -- to stop. Stop everything. Go back. Erase everything. He sighs, and then he pulls both hands up through his hair and let them fall to his sides. “You know what? Just -- Meeting adjourned. Dinner’s canceled, forget it.”

He'd look up to gauge their reaction but he's having the hardest time mustering up the energy to even focus his eyes.

“We still a team?” Maxi-Man asks, quietly.

“I don’t know,” Booster replies, exhausted. But he knows. It's done. Contracts have been signed, the press announcement's sent out... Claire’s people have been busy.

He’s stuck with these people.

In the awkward silence, the noise of approaching footsteps seems almost thundering. Booster looks up, wondering if it’s Gypsy returning, or hoping against hope it’s Claire about to tell them the project’s about to be redone from the ground up, but the head that peeks in is a young woman with short, voluminous ginger hair.

“Hi folks, sorry I’m late,” she beams at them.

“Oh!” Maxi-Man exclaims. “You’re that -- that pop star. You’re Terri.”

“Sure am,” she smiles, stepping in. “Though I go by Echo in the hero biz. I’m so excited to work with all of you!" She tosses her fringe out of her eyes. "What did I miss?”

**Author's Note:**

> Remember you can [VOTE](https://strawpoll.com/4xzwbygd) for what kind of silly shenanigans I should write for Booster and Ted once this arc is concluded!
> 
> To this day I don't know if the original Conglomerate in the comics was a bad idea or just something that didn't reach any of its potential. As I recall, Giffen and Dematteis said that once they'd invented the group they couldn't figure out anything for them to do, so they got that one issue and then were never really used again. I've had to do a lot of legwork, reading older titles featuring these characters to figure out what they're about, making up stuff for those that were invented for The Conglomerate, that sort of thing.
> 
> Because damnit, if Booster's worked so hard to get here we're owed seeing his journey too.
> 
> **[Song:](https://open.spotify.com/user/tilly_stratford/playlist/4SqomvmhyncWPEAobYUZ88?si=DNXWufsLSs29KqRywW2U9A)**  
I can't stand up for falling down - Elvis Costello and the Heartbreakers


End file.
